


No Easy Way To Fall

by charleeluciano



Series: Smaller Gallavich Words (<1000) [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, This is a little sad and a little fucked up, it was quick i don't know some of you might enjoy it, it's in a cemetery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:47:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2496725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleeluciano/pseuds/charleeluciano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At it's core, Mickey visits his mom's grave and talks to her... Or at her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Easy Way To Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Not going to lie, this was saved as "Bullshit drabble" in my phone. It's no work or art but someone might like it so.
> 
> Anyone who wants quality, go read Heroine Addicts Are Fucking Hardcore
> 
> Title taken from No Easy Way by Dylan Saunders which is a beautiful sad song. Everyone go listen to it.

He stood in a field surrounded by the dead.

Other people scattered around him didn’t pay any attention to just another griever. So there he stood, showered, dressed in his good jeans and a button up shirt with one of Ian’s nice jacket’s that was only slightly too big. He held a small bouquet of pink and white flowers; pink was always her favourite.

“Hi mom.” He started.

No matter how many times he did this, and he did it a lot, he always felt dumb talking to someone who couldn’t talk back.

“I need your help.” He told her, sitting down and placing the flowers at the base of a headstone that read:

Katrina Milkovich (née Malone)

Born May 1 1968

Died Feb 28 2011

“I’m sorry I haven’t come for a while.” Mickey told her.

“It’s just with Ian, I-" He cut himself off.

He never told her about Ian.

“You’d love him.” He started. “He’s got the same sense of humour as you. And he’s polite and funny. I’m sorry you never got to meet him.” He said with a small smile.

“I don’t know if I ever told you this; every day after work I empty my pockets into a jar under my bed,” He took a breath, calming himself of the emotions that were building up. “And after a couple of month I got enough to buy some flowers and then I come here.”

After 2 years, he still waited for a reply. “Dad’s never been here... once” He resisted the urge to add the understated _“fuckin’”_ in.

He stayed quiet for a long while, playing with the too green grass.

 _“They should spray it or something,”_ he thought. _“Fuckin’ graveyards aren’t meant to be happy.”_

“I think I love him.”

“What should I do?”

_“Fuckin’ talking to a dead woman and expecting an answer. Good one, Mick.”_

“Fine. You have it your way.” He shut his eyes and tried to hear his mom’s voice.

“... Nothing?”

He got a flash of the night that he tried jerking off to one of the dirty magazines he’d found around the house, the night he ran to his mom’s room when his dad was on a run. It was late at night and he snuck into bed with her and when she asked what was wrong he remembers crying so hard he was almost sick. He remembered when he’d calmed down she’d asked again and he had told her that he was a fag and dad was going to kill him. He remembers her holding him tight the whole night and getting him to sleep but stroking his hair and whispering that there was nothing wrong with him.

“Are you try’na to tell me there’s nothin’ wrong with bein’ in love with him?”

Nothing.

 

He nodded and scratched up a bit of grass.

“He’s too good for me.”

Nothing.

“I haven’t been to visit for a while because Ian’s bipolar and I gotta look after him.”

He told her all about bipolar disorder, everything that it is and everything Ian has to take and how shitty it is that it happened.

“His mum had it and he got it from her... So let’s hope none of us get being a-”

_“cunt”_

“Drunk... Y’know... From dad.”

He sat for a few minutes tearing up the grass.

“Ian’s got a big family too. Six kids... His dad’s also pretty-”

_“fucked up”_

“Bad...” 2 years after she hadn’t been listening to him and he still couldn’t bring himself to swear at her grave.

“I’m sure dad sometimes wanted to have sex when you didn’t want to... That’s the kind of thing he’d do, right?”

“He did it to me. He got a whore and...”

“I have a son.”

“You’re a grandma... Maybe you’d like him more.”

He waited a long time before he thought of something else to say.

“I need help, mom. I can’t be a... a train wreck dad like Terry is. But every time I look at him...”

“Please...”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, mom.”

He stood up and readjusted the flowers to be leaning just on the base. He whispered, “I love you.” and turned to walk home.

* * *

 

They walked hand in hand across the field, weaving in between gravestones of the deceased.

“Here.” Mickey told him, arriving at his mothers. Ian squeezed his hand and sat down with him, placing the flowers they bought over base.

“Mom, this is Ian.” Mickey told her.

Ian smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

* * *

They laid in bed, hands entwined and Mickey’s head on Ian’s chest.

“Mouse?”

“Mm?”

“How did she die?”

He sat up and Ian perched himself on the pillows leaning against the headboard.

“She was in a bad place. Dad was hitting her, all of us, but mainly mom. We found her on the couch, the needle was on the floor."

Ian squeezed his hand and Mickey dropped a kiss to Ian's head.

".. I think I love you."

Ian was quiet for a few moments. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear that, Mickey." He whispered.

"Do you reckon we're it?" He asked after a while.

Mickey let go of his hand and wrapped himself back around Ian.

"I reckon you're it for me. I don't think that it could ever be anyone else after you."

"I love you," Ian whispered.

After a long time, long after Ian had fallen asleep, Mickey whispered words against his skin.

"Thanks. For picking me."


End file.
